


Why?

by Enzuri



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Brainbent, Depression, Self Harm, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enzuri/pseuds/Enzuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Roxy Lalonde and you are the most cheerful girl at your school. At least that's what you want them all to think. None of them have really seen the shadows that lay under that mask.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VastDerp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VastDerp/gifts).



> So I've become really addicted to the AU BrainBent on Tumblr and after I had a particularly bad night yesterday I ended up writing this. Roxy hasn't been introduced (so far as I've read) yet so I didn't want to clutter up their submission box with this until after she's been established but I hope to once she has. Hopefully I didn't step on any toes with this.
> 
> Based on VastDerp's BrainBent AU.

Your name is Roxy Lalonde and you are the most cheerful girl at your school. At least that's what you want them all to think. None of them have really seen the shadows that lay under that mask.

You're in the middle of goofing around on the internet when you pause for a minute and your eyes catch the pins on your dresser. They're collecting dust, you haven't done any sewing since the last disaster you created. You pick them up, taking a moment to pick a colour. Yellow. No reason behind the colour choice, its not even your favourite colour. When it falls from your uncoordinated fingers you nearly take it as a sign to stop what you're doing but then you find it nestled amongst the cables on the ground. 

You chew on the round bit as you walk to the bathroom.

The edge of the bathtub is cold when you take a seat, wondering why you're about to do what you're about to do. Its not like you're in the throws of one of your darker moods and you aren't feeling numb but you still slide the fabric away and contemplate a moment. Then you press the tip of the pin down, halfway up your thigh. Its a light touch. You're not trying to break skin here as you drag it a short way, a straight line. 

It takes you a moment to decide on what word you want since fucker seems unfitting this time.

Why?

You just want to raise welts, just like you used to do a few years back but the welts don't show so you press a little harder, going over and over the same place until oh, there's a thin line of bright red. There's nothing you were even upset about, not really at least, but now there's this thing trying to make itself at home inside you. 

With that first little bit of red you know you can't just leave it at welts this time. The pin is sharper than the ones you used before so it doesn't take much to make it stand out, crimson on your skin. You're methodical about it, fifteen little strokes for each line and you're done. Its not perfect, the letters are barely recognizable now that you've wiped away that bit of blood but its enough. 

You're still wondering why the hell you just did that but the urge is satisfied so you can move on. You make sure to flush the toilet so that whoever was home wouldn't wonder what it was you were up to in here. 

You pass the mirror. You're crying. Not a lot but still. Why are you crying? You don't understand.

You didn't do this to feel the pain, you didn't do it for the attention. No one was going to see what you'd done with where you put it. Is that why you're crying about this? Because you went and did it without any real reason? 

You dart back into your room with no one the wiser, back on the computer. Your leg stings a little but you barely notice it since the word was just so small. You stare at the screen, trying to remember what it was that you were doing before you stood up. Breath in, breath out, call up your e-mail. There, the tears are gone and so is that heavy ache in your chest. You don't know what came over you but it doesn't matter anyway, someone is asking you where you disappeared to.

You tell them you just went to grab a drink and make sure to add a big smiley face at the end of the sentence. No one is the wiser. 

Then there was radio silence, figuratively speaking. No responses from any of your friends and the ache in your chest returns and you think you feel the beginnings of more tears and you're just so confused. What on earth triggered you like this? Everything has been going fine, great even lately, did your body just decide that now was a good time to take that all away from you?

Your mouse clicks into a reply to an e-mail from your best friend and your fingers hover over the keys. It wouldn't take much, just a short sentence, let her know how you're feeling. You can't do it. You start the message and erase it more times than you bother to count and when you get called for dinner you abandon the idea entirely. 

All through dinner your mother remarks on how grumpy you are and in the end gives up on having a conversation with you. That annoyed sigh. It nearly brings on the waterworks. You're glad she shut up though, you couldn't figure out what kind of response she was looking for in her story about work. Emotions and you are not working today. You dash back into your room and ignore everyone else for the rest of the night and fight the urge to pick up the pin again. 

You fail.

You make sure to mark your failure someplace you'll see it. Stinging again you go on with the evening. All smiles and cheerful words trying to figure out why the hell it is so fucking hard to just ask for the help.

No one will ever notice what's really going on, those smiley faces are a perfect mask. They're the only thing the void inside you hasn't taken yet.


End file.
